Ringing The Changes I
by Chya
Summary: One possible future where each Mutant X member has to follow their own path in a world turned a little darker.
1. Prologue

Spoilers: Tiny ones for a lot of episodes. Most notably Altered Ego. Also BT, NMLB… 

Focus: All.

Notes: It'll come as no surprise to anyone that 'The Middle' was doodled whilst watching Lord of the Rings (Fellowship). Jess-muse looked at it and considered it and toyed with it for oh, about five days, then decided I should write a story to go with it. So I made the mistake of enquiring what the back-story was, how they'd gotten to 'The Middle'. That was ten days ago. He told me and I wrote it down and that is what's labeled as 'The Beginning'. Then I sat down to write the story itself, and that's the part that's labeled as the 'The End.' And that's why it's presented in the order that it is.

Please note that 'The End' will be posted in a couple of weeks as it is written but is currently undergoing tweaking and beta-ing.

Many thanks to Jen, Claire and Wyn for saying nice things and being generally encouraging and Hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooojjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj HUGS and thanks to JillyW for putting up with much cursing and doing a sterling beta job. All remaining mistakes are all mine.

Warnings: I don't know anything about anything, and techno babble is just techno babble. AU inasmuch as it's outside canon. In the future, actually.

*****

**Ringing the Changes**

By Chya

The Middle 

Five rings there were, five rings of those with power, those that led all others.

They lay alone, untouched by the living since their bearers lay them to rest deep within a mountain as the world waged a war of human and mutant. A short war, but vicious and decimating, no side able to take the mantle of black or white, all battling in shades of gray.

The mutant rebellion had been quashed. The ferals killed or caged, the moleculars enslaved in mines and quarries whose automated robotics had been destroyed. Elementals kept tethered in power stations and factories, providing the energy for humans to function, live and rebuild while psionics and those with other powers too dangerous, or which simply didn't have any practical application, were killed out of hand in the global freak farms.

For once, humankind was united in a hatred that would last as long as the planetary desolation, and a thirst for destruction that would last as long as there were mutants to exploit and destroy.

For those very few renegades and outlaws of both human and mutant kind who still believed in the right to live, a legend was growing; the story of a small, elusive group who even before the war, as well as during, helped mutants to escape horrific fates and integrate into civilized society with humans who accepted who and what they were. A group who fought tenaciously for the right of mutants to live in peace alongside humans. Legend said that only the plain silver ring they wore could identify a member of that group. 

But the rings had been carefully abandoned as their bearers chose to go different ways, take different paths, each believing they were fighting for peace and equality, yet never quite able to reconcile and unite through their own differences.

Now, the war was over and exactly a year had passed since the rings had been buried here beneath the ruins of Sanctuary. And one person took it upon himself to find each ring bearer and return the band of silver to them.

He was a man of no side at all, a man who, in the far distant past, had been scarred and beaten yet survived to rule his own ruthless empire. A man who was not quite human, yet not quite mutant.

A man who, before the war, had been known as Mason Eckhart but, now that it was over, no longer had a name to call his own. 

*****

_The Beginning_

**=13 Months**

At the beginning of 2004, mutants started coming out of the woodwork. 

It started with a feral named Lucy, plain speaking and articulate, feline enough that her mutancy was clear, yet not displeasing to the human eye. Her reception was indifferent on the surface, and she encouraged others. Peoples' opinions became mixed, leaning towards the negative, but since this was better than Lucy, or any mutant who looked at the bigger picture over their own security, could have hoped for, optimism grew. Information concerning Genomex and its government links were leaked gently to the press, helping to promote sympathy for the mutant cause. Most leaks were quashed, but enough were printed that conspiracy theorists had some idea that these freaks of nature were created by human hand.

Around this time a powerful industrialist, William Morrisen gained a senate seat on a platform of anti-mutant propaganda, easily done since he represented a state known for its often violent intolerance of the different. 

Riots started breaking out, small ones here and there in major cities, rapidly escalating over the weeks, months, until it all culminated in the Halloween Riot. What started out as a peaceful mutant demonstration turned into a full-fledged car-burning riot, something not unusual at that time. Humans and mutants alike fought tooth and nail, almost all believing they were right. There were a few unfortunate fatalities and many injuries on all sides, but it became infamous for the deaths of three individuals in particular.

The first was Lucy, who had the misfortune to be struck in the head by a large rock which shattered her skull, thrown from what could have been anywhere in the confusion. And the others were two children, a young brother and sister, playing innocently in the park through which the demonstration passed. The media ignored the fact that the children were cremated before autopsies could be performed, focusing almost wholly on the fact that they had been eviscerated. They could have died by knife but, because the media dictated otherwise, it was generally accepted that they were murdered by claw.

The fact that this most shocking of events occurred on the day of the Witching Hour did nothing to help the mutant cause, and The Halloween Riot became infamous for sparking off the Mutant War.

*****  
  
In the garden there was almost silence only disturbed by the water trickling merrily and oblivious into the pond. 

The five people that stood in a loose circle were all too aware of the muted pounding at the walls, the vents and the pipes, searching out all the weak spots that Sanctuary might possess. The Mutageddon Virus had wiped the computers clean, destroying information highways and stores, gobbling anything and everything in its path, including security systems.

They weren't under attack by any super-mutant or immoral business conglomerate, weren't under threat of experimentation or someone after their information, their mutant database. 

They were under attack by a lynch mob of proportions big enough to quash the National Guard. To fight was to commit suicide and that was something that none were prepared to consider in these climes. They could serve better by keeping alive and doing as much as they could out there in the world.

Reluctant as they were to admit it, it was time the group split up to follow their own destinies. In order to preserve its visions and goals, Mutant X had to die. The underground, although busier than ever, could continue without them; there were enough good people willing and able to ensure mutants got out of violent sectors and into relatively safe environments. 

They each swore that they would be back to collect their ring when the opportunity came, that they wouldn't forget their time here, and that they would stay in contact one way or another. That they would always remain friends, no matter what happened. Emma even went so far as to suggest they meet up in exactly a year's time, like they did in that old movie. They all smiled, and while a pact to do so was obviously not forthcoming, the idea being just too corny, neither did anyone deny the thought.

Adam closed the box and, turning the waterfall off, put it in the small safe below the mouth from where the water fell. The same safe held another lever that opened a door in the floor that Adam tripped before locking the safe and switching the waterfall back on again.

The five hugged and said goodbye to each other, not knowing if the chance would arise again, and made their way through the trapdoor and tunnel that would bring them out deep in the woods.

In Sanctuary's own sanctuary, the trapdoor sealed closed behind them and the rings began the long wait for their return. 

*****


	2. Minus 12 Months

**-12 Months**

  
"As the mutant fear spreads rapidly worldwide, riots have been contained by police and military officials." Proxy Blue's plastic smiling face managed to reinforce all the sarcasm conveyed in her tone with a sideways glance. "Or should that be 'brutally squashed'? In any case, it seems that Downing Street and the Kremlin are both with the White House in their condemnation of the mutant terror. 

"And the public are asking, 'where did these mutants come from?' Anyone care to answer that one? I didn't think so. The French Ambassador to Beijing has the Chinese Premier behind closed doors. I wonder what's being said in there, hm? As for our antipodean siblings, they seem blissfully unaware. Or maybe their governments are better at keeping secrets, in which case a certain clandestine visit to Canberra by a Tokyo official bears watching." Proxy Blue leaned forward, winking conspiratorially. "And don't forget to keep those stories coming, human, mutant, alien or earthworm. I love a good bedtime read."

*****

Adam Kane looked General Sperling in the eye. "You're a soldier, you know that the first rule of war is to know your enemy and know yourself," he began seriously, but he should have known that the officer was too impatient for a lecture.

"Sun-tzu," Sperling said flatly. "Classic reading. What exactly are you getting at?"

"You have no idea how diverse mutants can be, in both nature and powers." Adam leaned forward as he tried to get his point across. This was a dry run for him. Beverly had been unable to get anyone to talk to him, but she had managed to get hold of a couple of schedules for people who he might be able to bully his way in to see the next couple of days. "Like any group of humans there are those that threaten and destroy, but the vast majority only want to be allowed to live their lives, have jobs, kids, dogs and white picket fences."

Sperling tipped his head and frowned. "Now, you know that's not going to happen in this generation. And I don't see many people intending for there to **be** a next generation."

Adam nodded. "I know that all too well. But these people are not mutants of their own choice. It was normal humans like you and, uh, me, that made them. How fair is it to deny them the opportunity to have those kids just because they might pass on the mutant genes? It's not a disease, and some would even argue that it's the next evolutionary step. How is it just to condemn them for something that's not of their making?"

"It's not," Sperling agreed. "But I don't make the rules. I just see some freak shoot flamethrowers at me or my men and I kill him. It's a matter of protection, defense, and following orders."

"Both the soldier's glory and his excuse," Adam muttered, feeling frustrated and pushing it down as he realized that it was a feeling he'd better get used to pretty damned quick. He changed tactic. "The other side of the coin then. There are people in the government who want this war, who are stirring it up. Is that not a kind of corruption? And isn't it your job to protect against that?"

"You're confusing me with a saint," Sperling smiled without humor. "It's my job to do as the boss says while trying to keep my men alive. A war gives me job security and I gotta say, show me a government anywhere on the planet, current or past, that hasn't been corrupt and I'll show you a big fat blue flying pig."

Standing outside Sperling's office, Adam decided that talking to soldiers really wasn't his forte, even intelligent soldiers such as Sperling. 

Perhaps the politicians would be more amenable.

He could dream, couldn't he?

*****

It was much the same sermon that Emma and Shalimar tried to preach at a Mutant X safe house where a handful of New Mutants were muttering about taking up arms in revenge for the injustices done. Emma tried to emulate Adam, which unfortunately left her audience twitching nervously. 

However, Shalimar bounded forward, made them sit up straight and pay attention. "We are not going to sit around on our asses and take this," she told them, "we're going to talk to the people that can make things happen. If we have to tie them to their armchairs and scream in their ears, we are going to make them listen. We are going to defend ourselves, first and foremost with words, but where we have to we'll defend ourselves with our powers. Some of us have natural offensive weapons, some defensive, some none at all. But we are never, ever, going to pick up a gun. Or a K-Bar, or anything other than what they gave us when they fucked up our DNA."

"Er, Shal," Emma said softly, "you're starting to sound like a human hater." 

"What? No, I'm… uh, right." She cleared her throat and continued, making an effort not to let her natural enthusiasm get ahead of her. "We're also going to protect those who can't defend themselves. This not only means protecting mutants against humans, but also humans against mutants. It's in our best interests to both protect our own, and protect others from those who give us all a bad name. And we will only **ever** use lethal force in life or death situations."

She glared at the young people in front of her, and then scowled. "Got it?"

As one they nodded rapidly, eyes wide, hope and smiles written over their faces and Emma realized that, while these people were prepared to fight for their right to live, they needed someone to guide and lead them. That for the moment, she and Shalimar had found their calling.

*****

Jesse angrily sent the car hurtling down the Van Hansen's drive towards the main road. They were the last in a long line of friends and acquaintances of his parents that had money, influence and/or power. With those that had some influence, he dared to sound out the possibility of help in supporting human/mutant relations and taking down those that wanted to destroy the mutants. Some of them he'd been certain would have helped if they thought they could do it anonymously. 

But Jesse was rapidly finding out that his parents' friends and acquaintances were only friends and acquaintances with the Kilmartin fortune. Power and influence didn't really feature in the Kilmartin heritage, what with Noah being a socially inept no-hoper who never looked like his maid had seen an iron, according to Arabella Montebrina, an ex-friend. Not to forget that his mother had been a white trash whore who had slept with more men than Mary Magdalene, and although Noah **said** she died in a car crash, we all know what happened really, don't we, as said by the junior Ms Van Hansen, much to her father's dismay. Of course, Mr. Van Hansen obviously hadn't realized that Jesse was still in earshot when he mentioned the hopes that Society had had for the youngest Kilmartin, with his mother's good looks and grandfather's brains. And then to discover the child was one of **them**, oh the embarrassment, do you think we should tell someone?

Feeling angrily suicidal for just a flash, Jesse hit the main road and floored the gas, fishtailing across and cutting up a couple of cars that honked and yelled angrily at him. He gave them the finger, felt better and headed for a couple of friends and acquaintances of his own that just might help out.

*****

In the dark smoky bar, Brennan swigged beer and played pool with some random guy. He liked this place, came in here regularly, had done so even before he'd met Adam. Here, apart from Proxy Blue jabbering away on the TV in the corner, it was like any other day. No war, no oppression, just civilized people enjoying a drink, a joke and a shot at the table.

He'd come here as part of his attempts to keep his ear to the ground, see what the buzz was, work out where he should best lay his talents, but most of the conversation seemed to be revolving around last night's hockey game.

The door opened and an old man came in. Everyone called him Eli, although no one knew if that was really his name, and he was a regular in this place, but otherwise homeless. Begged enough during the day for a few drinks, slept at the hostel, did no one any harm. Today was different and Brennan was shocked when virtually the entire bar rounded on the bewildered old man, even blocking the way out. They called him a mutant and knocked him to the floor, prepared kick the living daylights out of him. But then Brennan was standing over him, ready to fight, demanding to know what was going on.

"He's a mutant, and we don't want his kind in here," the barkeep said. "Causing us enough trouble as it is.  This place is supposed to be a haven away from it all."

"It's no haven if you discriminate," Brennan told him. "And besides, he's too old to be a new mutant. The first mutant ever made would still be less than forty."

"He **is** a mutant," the barkeep insisted and one of the other men pulled up Eli's hand, tearing off the worn glove. "And how do you know so much?"

Brennan swore as he saw Eli's hand. Six fingers. A natural deformity and not even an unusual one. Even Marilyn Monroe'd had six toes. "That's it? That's why you're calling him a mutant? And anyway, what has he ever done to you?"

"It's not what he's done, it's what he might do. And you didn't answer, what makes you such an expert?"

Brennan looked at the floor and shook his head before raising his hands to roll up a ball of electricity. "He's not a mutant and I know that, because I **am!**" Angrily making sure his spectators got a good look at glowing ball of energy, he blasted an empty table in the corner into splinters. The barkeep and patrons dove for cover, crying out in terror while Brennan took the opportunity to pick up the old man and take them both out of the bar. 

Once out in the clear light of day, he looked back regretfully; he'd never be able to go in there again. And then he realized the bigger implications. No doubt his little tantrum will have escalated into a full-blown riot by the ten o'clock news.

Eli tugged at his arm, and Brennan looked down at the wizened and whiskered face. The old man seemed okay, just a little shocky and bruised, no worse than he'd get if he arrived too late to get a bed at the shelter and had to take cardboard box.

"You're a good boy," said Eli, patting his arm fondly. "A good boy." And then he was hobbling away towards the soup kitchen, leaving Brennan standing alone and wondering how the hell people could be so fucking cruel. 

*****

"I'm sorry, did I just hear you correctly?" Mason Eckhart frowned at Senator Byrnes as they took coffee in the lounge of the Capitol Gentleman's Club.

"You did!" The fat man's rolls of fat wobbled indignantly. "I couldn't believe it myself. Even the redoubtable Ermintrude couldn't stop him and I'd have bet she could halt a hurricane in its tracks with just a glare. I mean, the cheek of it, bursting in unannounced like that!"

Eckhart could feel his lips twitch with suppressed mirth at the idea of Adam breezing past the stick thin Ermintrude with the sharp bones, sharp tongue and sharper wit. "Some people have no sense of propriety…" he shrugged, leaving the sentence hanging. "What was he after, did he say?"

"Oh, some nonsense about mutants having equal rights with humans. An absolutely disgusting affair."

"As you say." Eckhart leaned back in the chair and sipped at his coffee. "Mutants shouldn't be allowed to - "

"No, not mutants, boy. Just listen, would you?" Eckhart smiled politely and kept his temper in check as Byrnes rambled on. "He barged in just as the chiropodist was seeing to me! I mean, quite the wrong impression could have been given!"

Eckhart wondered exactly what the chiropodist might have been 'seeing to' to give a wrong impression before quickly deciding that that was area he really didn't want to think about too closely. "Oh, I couldn't agree more," he murmured, sipping at his tea. "Hm, don't you think it might be an idea to warn others about Mr. Kane dropping in unannounced? Personally I wouldn't give him the time day under any circumstance, far too aggressive. And I'm certain there are others who would appreciate knowing that they could be caught in, uh, situations that could cause the wrong impressions."

"Yes, yes, you're quite right." Byrnes slurped at his beverage. "It would never do, must make sure this whippersnapper doesn't cause trouble, eh?"

By the time Byrnes left for another appointment with his chiropodist, Eckhart was quite certain that the next occasion that Adam came across Ermintrude or one of her peers, he would not find it so easy to gain entrance.

*****


	3. Minus 11 Months

**-11 Months**

"The UN summit this afternoon surprised many people, although this reporter knew better." Proxy Blue was looking particularly smug. "Given the panicked movements of so many world leaders recently along with various meetings behind closed doors, it was inevitable that they would all be brought to the big table in the end. The question is, what little alliances have been made outside the big table? 

"It's been deemed that the mutant menace is a global threat since these monsters do reside worldwide, even though the greatest concentration by far is in the United States. Anyone wonder why that would be? But worse than that, you can't tell a mutant by just looking at them. Of course, no one is saying that because it wouldn't be politically correct, but how many are thinking it?

"Global martial law may seem like overkill to some, but reports of spontaneous combustion and core meltdown threats are abounding.  But on the other hand, does anyone really think a bunch of human soldiers is going to stop lynch mobs either? And has anyone else noticed that since the Halloween Riot, no one has asked a single mutant their opinion on the subject? Maybe someone should. Keep the stories coming in, web weavers, things are spicing up."

*****

Brennan toasted the TV screen as Proxy Blue launched into a tale of conspiracy. Another day, another bar, and although he'd made some contacts over the last couple of weeks, he was finding that he was preferring his own company. The thieves he ran with these days really didn't care about mutants one way or another, mixing freely and only seeing 'special' skills in relation to a con or a job. But there was always the exception, and the exceptions were dangerous; they were the ones that saw the moneymaking possibilities of capturing and selling mutants on. The market was too limited at the moment, only Genomex giving a small reward. But word on the street was that it wouldn't be long before mutants would become a hot commodity. Big question was, would it be legalized or not? Those on the street hoped not, mostly because it would open up a whole new Black Market.

Word on the street also had it that there was someone, a Mister Big, who was manipulating all this from backstage. However opinion was divided as to whether it was a politician with his own agenda, a mind-mutant playing head-fuck with six billion people, or a council of aliens from Alpha Centauri. 

His drink suddenly tasting sour, Brennan left it half empty and departed the bar to head back towards the motel he was staying at. He was acquiring resources, but had no direction to focus them in. However, since the other ex-members of Mutant X were having no real success in their chosen paths, he would keep going as he was for the moment.

Passing the alley next to the soup kitchen, some odd feeling made him look into it. A cat yowled and leaped away, but that wasn't what caught his eye. Rather, it was a foot poking out from under a pile of trash that gave him pause, and with a sinking feeling Brennan pulled the body out. Eli had not only been dead for at least a day or so, but it was clear to anyone who looked that the harmless old man had been viciously beaten to death.

It suddenly hit Brennan as he knelt over the broken corpse, breathing hard in shock, that this whole thing was serious and that the absolute worst in people was being brought out. He'd come from an environment where people had to look out for themselves, where alliances were formed and broken in a blink, deals struck and counter struck as fast as a number could be dialed. But there was always a rough code of honor, where those who preyed on the weak were taken out by their own. Where back street assassinations and shakedowns were the results of business.

To beat an old man to death simply for having an extra finger wasn't just plain sick, but went against every code of back street honor that Brennan had ever lived by.

*****

Adam couldn't believe his luck. He'd been lobbying in Washington when he'd run into Charlotte Cooke, a mutant who could alter moral polarity and an old friend of his. She'd grown up in the last few years from a frightened, malicious child into a confident young woman who had found a place on Senator Langley's staff. On the face of it, Langley was very liberal in her views, but rumors abounded that she was a hard, ruthless and ambitious bitch. Charlotte seemed to admire her though, and Adam suspected that she and Langley were each operating their own agendas, using each other. Still, Charlotte was an adult now and could look after herself.

The upshot of running into the young woman had been that she'd been able to get him in to see Langley. And what a meeting that had been. 

Victoria Langley was a tall slim blonde, graying gracefully and elegant to the bone. She projected sincerity and care but, knowing that politics was no place for weak, Adam wished for Emma's powers to try and ascertain what she was really thinking. However, Langley had opened doors for him, given him a platform to start talking to people in power, start offering proof that the hysteria was unfounded.

And confident in his own persuasive skills, a small platform was all he needed.

He hoped.

*****

Jesse had spent hours poring over his accounts and drawing up plans.

Having come to the conclusion that power and influence were not areas where he was going to be able to do something, either through others or himself, there was only one option left open to him. Someone, somewhere, had decided that Noah was presumed dead, which at first sight had shocked Jesse to the core, leaving him staring at the screen numbly for an hour. Until he'd realized that the proxy certification of death had been signed off over month **before **the last time he'd met up with Noah himself.

As he put his plans together, tweaking here and there, he decided that the time had come to grow up and put idealism aside. He'd learned hard the last few weeks that there was little in the world that lived up to high idealistic standards, that he needed to take a leaf out of Brennan's book.

So he injected as much paranoia into his plans as he could possibly dredge up. Then, finally satisfied that it all looked good on paper, he turned his thoughts to pulling together a team to fulfill it. He needed them to be highly skilled, self-motivated, objectively neutral and loyal.

Enough money bought a hell of a lot. Even things that should never have been for sale.

*****

Emma and Shalimar had found that people were willing to listen to anyone who would give them the hope of having normal lives. Most mutants just wanted to be left alone to live side by side with humans who saw no reason to treat them any different from anyone else. It was these mutants along with the humans that accepted them that banded together around Emma and Shalimar.

But things were getting unmanageable, and with a couple of the new arrivals vying for leadership with aggressive agendas, the two young women decided that they needed to take charge and put some order into the growing chaos.

So far, they had come up with a name - Freedom Fighters – and made the decision to split up in order to cover more areas. They already had a base of operations, the old sub-station where they were gathered now, and Shalimar would stay there, organizing training and direct operations with an eye to protecting the innocent and thwarting aggressive maneuvers by both human and mutant. 

They decided that Emma would move away and continue to find others, those willing to join forces as well as those who would give support from their day to day lives. On top of that, she'd also be keeping in contact with Adam, who was making in-roads into places that counted, and between them they would set up neutral meeting ground between human and mutant, with Shalimar's group providing security.

Immediately they announced their plans the most vociferous dissident in the group, a feral by the name of Vernon, ripped it apart. "We should be showing them that we're a hell of a lot more powerful than they are! They should be trembling at **our** feet, not the other way round!"

Shalimar smiled sweetly and prowled forward. "If you feel like that, honey, you shouldn't be here, you should be with the backwoods psychos arming up to nuke half the planet.  That'd probably do it." She'd taken his stock the first time he'd spoken against her. He was some kind of dog, probably a wolf feral, and if she had her animal psychology right, he could be taken care of if he knew who was boss. She lowered her voice to a growl. "Or you could do things my way, which will give most of the world a chance."

He responded to her challenge, green eyes flashing gold, leaping forward to teach the bitch a lesson through sheer brute force. But Shalimar had years of experience that Vernon clearly hadn't. A boot below the belt, a kick in the head, and she was all over him, one hand throttling, the other ready to gouge his eyes out. "Uncle?"

Vernon nodded, surrendered, and she let him up to take himself off to lick his wounds in a corner. A little later, when the tension had relaxed somewhat, she went to talk to him.

"I could use you if you'd stay," she offered.

"Pity offering?" he asked, clearly ashamed.

She shrugged. "You're still here. You could have taken off."

"Nowhere to take off to."

She smiled and crouched down next to him. "A very good friend of mine said something similar once. It took him a long time to realize that he was already home. You don't have to be that stubborn. You're good with people, they'll follow you, and I need someone I can trust to help me. I can't do all this by myself."

"Hah! After they saw me get my ass kicked by a little girl?"

"That doesn't matter. I've been trained to fight, been fighting since I was fifteen, and that's a lot longer than I'll ever admit to. We'll have you trained up in no time, and when those people out there see that you can do it, they'll have more confidence that they can do it too."

Vernon took a breath. "Okay, well, I'm not a yes man, you know that?"

"I wouldn't want one. I'm not perfect and I need other viewpoints. Ollie has also agreed to help and with his Special Forces training and your people skills, we'll knock 'em in to shape in no time."

"But he's human!" Vernon protested.

"Yes, and so are a lot of our people. Deal with it, okay?"

Hesitating a moment, Vernon finally nodded. "Dealing. But what about the others then? Moleculars, psionics and elementals? They're different from ferals. And humans. Different advantages and disadvantages to take into consideration."

"That's where my experience comes in. I have some understanding of a few different types, so we'll assess and deal with as we can."

Emma watched the exchange and was confident that Shalimar could be a good leader. She'd spoken at length with Ollie, a large down to earth man who spoke little but said much when he did, and she was confident that he could keep the two volatile ferals balanced.

When she asked for volunteers for her own group, she wasn't surprised to find that the small handful that stood with her were a mix of humans and mutants that were not given to fighting. But she **was** surprised to find a husband and wife team joined her, a couple who were experienced soldiers, a resource that Shalimar would do well to keep hold of. Jeff was a molecular, could change his body into any base metal with reach, while Julie was a mere human but with a deadly line in kickboxing and street fighting.

"You'll need some security and protection," Julie pointed out, and with Shalimar giving her that 'don't you argue with me, missy,' look, Emma really couldn't find it within herself to object.

"Be careful, Shal," Emma said as she hugged Shalimar goodbye. They'd be in contact of course, but the psionic had a gut feeling that they wouldn't be seeing each other again any time soon.

Shalimar seemed a little uncertain, probably thinking that the younger woman was over-reacting, yet always willing to return a hug and cater to needs for reassurance. "And you too, sweetie."

They broke apart, and Emma rubbed the finger where her ring had been. "I still feel naked without it," she said.

"I know," sighed Shalimar. "But they're useless with Sanctuary's computers trashed, and they're too easy to identify us by. "

"I know, but I kind of feel like I'm casting off alone."

Shalimar shook her head. "I'm always here, you know that. And we're in contact with Adam and the boys."

"Sure," said Emma backing away to where her small entourage waited. "Be seeing you then."

Shalimar smiled and watched her until she was gone from sight.

*****

"Welcome."

Eckhart nodded his acknowledgement of Morrisen's greeting as he took his seat on the Inner Circle for the first time. The group of maybe a dozen politicians and businessmen from different walks was ruled by Morrisen, and controlled not only the US government from the shadows, but also a good many other governments by proxy.

"William," Byrnes said, "Mason has some knowledge of our little interloper that you may find interesting."

Morrisen turned Eckhart, with a questioning look.

"Yes, I used to work with him some years ago." That much was true, at least, and Eckhart liked to keep his cards close to his chest. "Is he causing a problem?"

Morrisen looked speculatively at the poker-faced Langley. "Not for much longer," he said with a cruel smile as he took a drag from his long Havana. "Not for much longer at all."

*****


	4. Minus 10 Months

-10 Months

Proxy Blue stared from the monitor with her normal sarcastically knowing smile as if waiting for her audience to pay attention before launching into her diatribe. "It seems the Angels have fallen to earth and brought hell with them. Following on from last weeks shocking destruction of the California and Florida Nuclear Power plants, the rest of the US grid has had difficulty picking up the slack. Today, the plants in Dakota and East Virginia joined them, suggesting that the rest of the national grid look to its own before trying to stretch themselves too far. Add to that the Tsunami that hit Japan at the beginning of the month, earthquakes in Europe and Siberia, as well as anomalous hurricanes across most of the Southern hemisphere, and one could think something almost freaky was going on."

She cocked her head as if listening to something. "We all know that the media are blaming the Angels of Vengeance, but I wonder how many know that their leader is human? This reporter has it on the very best authority that DNA has been gathered that is one hundred per cent certainly from Mr. Big, and that he has no genetic deviations from the norm. Of course, there is the small matter of finding likely people to test for that DNA. It could well be quicker to grow a clone and see what it looks like. Hm, now there's a thought. Does anyone else wonder why the Senator with the foot fetish, and you all know who I mean, has suddenly bowed to a scandal and resigned? Never bothered him before. The plots thicken, gentle people, so keep on cluing me in."

*****

When Byrnes was forced to resign his senate seat due to those unfortunate pictures that mysteriously appeared on the web, alongside a little peer pressure, Eckhart was quietly confident that it would be he who would be taking the fat man's place as Morrisen's right hand. Byrnes had no business empire or influence to keep him in the Inner Circle, so his seat there was forfeit when he resigned. Knowing this, Eckhart had lobbied hard for the position and made no secret of his maneuvers against Byrnes, understanding that it was the way things were done in this particular political arena.

He was not disappointed. 

He also had a strategy in place to usurp Morrisen and was quite sure that the other man knew it, such was the nature of the game. The trick was to use each other to the fullest, yet have things ready to oust the other at a moments' notice. 

There was also another interesting development. One of Langley's pets had turned out to be an old friend of Adam's. A friend who was easily persuaded to do what was in her own best interests once a little pressure was applied. And a friend that Eckhart himself was embarrassingly familiar with. Adam would shortly be firmly under the Inner Circle's thumb, although Eckhart thought that Charlotte Cooke herself would turn out to be a threat. 

Until Langley informed the circle that Ms Cooke would be dealt with. To demonstrate, she introduced her newest pet, Dale Smith, who until that moment had stood behind Langley in the guise of Charlotte Cooke. Then her features shifted to become a blank, curiously unfinished face. Another mutant then, and in politics, an extremely useful one.

*****

Sitting on the terrace in the sunlight, Adam enjoyed a rare moment of peace. Things were going well and, although he felt as if he were fighting a machine behind the faces, he was talking to more and more people who were listening, he'd already run a couple of seminars and presented a paper. Things still didn't seem to be moving in the right direction yet, but that would certainly take time because, for all that the mutants were the oppressed, the humans had good reason to fear them. For many humans, the only known encounters with mutants they'd had had been violent or violating and, like a beautiful white silk blouse that has a small red wine stain at the collar, people will view the entire garment as ruined. So they saw all mutants based on the few hostile ones they'd known. An enormous yet, to Adam, a not insurmountable hurdle.

On a lighter note, his four protégés were being remarkably successful in the areas they'd chosen to work, and with Jesse's team up and running, they had a central communication network and information exchange. Even working independently of each other they made a team to be proud of.

A shadow fell over the table, and he stood to greet his lunch guest with a genuine smile of pleasure. "Charlotte, I'm so glad you could make it."

"I couldn't refuse, Adam." She smiled sweetly, perhaps a little too sweetly, but Adam was quite certain that all that was behind them. She sat down and glanced at the menu before asking, "So what do I owe the honor?"

"Can't a friend just invite another friend to lunch?" he smiled. "Besides, I wanted to thank for your help."

"Anything to help the mutant cause," Charlotte replied, looking at him bemusedly. "You know that Langley wants you on her staff."

Adam nodded. "Yes, she's made her offer perfectly clear. But I can't be seen to throw my lot in with one senator, no matter how altruistic they may appear to be - which I don't for a moment believe she is, by the way. Not if I want to get enough support to reverse the course upon which we seem to be embarked."

Charlotte leaned over and gently, yet firmly, touched Adam's hand. "Oh, but I'm quite certain I can change your views on the matter," she said.  Adam was helpless to do anything but agree.

*****

Shalimar's Freedom Fighters were shaping up well and small groups went on regular patrols, extending progressively further away from their base of operations as, in dribs and drabs, others that had encountered Emma's group came to join them. 

Inevitably, the one big group again became unmanageable and too central so, keeping the current base, Shalimar sent large groups further afield to set up small outposts. The further out these satellite bases sprang up, the more people came, the closer proximity making it easier to make the decision to join. The majority only ever pledged support from their existing lives, especially the humans, but those without permanent homes or decent jobs were more than willing to up roots and move into the bases. Shalimar was tired much of the time now, even her excessive energy running low, but Vernon and Ollie stopped her overworking, and at the end of the day, she was proud of every single one of the people she met.

The other, far more disturbing, reason that there was a significant influx of people joining arms was the AV's. The Angels of Vengeance were those mutants who wanted the humans punished and destroyed as much as the human extremists wanted the mutants destroyed. Initially, Emma had thought they were just misguided until she talked to one and found such a wall of pain and rage that there was no chance of making them listen. The mental violence had been so extreme the psionic had been physically sick, Jeff having to carry her away in his arms while Julie looked like thunder.

The sad thing was, the human extremists were those that had suffered at mutant hands, and likewise, the AV's were those that had suffered at human hands. And neither would ever give way.

Emma for her part, was finding it increasingly easy to find people who were willing to listen to her. No one, not human nor mutant, wanted their lives ruined by a war that was, despite what the politicians said, raging out of control. While she sent many to Shalimar, a few chose to remain with her and, taking notes from her feral friend, Emma soon split her own group up to work in tandem with Shalimar's groups. A handful of volunteers even went as ambassadors to the tiny groups in other countries, helping to form a united force and, more importantly, a united voice.

*****

Jesse was grinning as Shalimar signed off. She was clearly having a ball, and even though dark rings shadowed her eyes, her excitement was genuine and infectious. And Adam had been high as a kite last time they'd spoken too, convinced that in-roads were being made in establishing talks and turning opinion.

Jesse himself had a meeting with Brennan in a day or so, which he was looking forward to since it would mean he'd get out into the fresh air. He had his team in place in various locations, mostly in the States and Canada, although there were a couple of people further afield. With his borrowed paranoia in mind, only Jesse had met each one personally, vetting and setting them up, and they each worked independently with specific goals. 

The computers Jesse'd had installed in those locations all fed back to his Central Control, but that meant that he barely set foot outside the basement flat he'd set himself up in. He was finding it increasingly difficult to get out of his control chair and take care of himself, even now making a mental note to shave before meeting with Brennan.

But it was all worth it. Money and information was diverted to areas that needed it most, whether it be one of Shalimar's teams or Emma needing flights and false ID for one of her team. Even sending it to those who would use it wisely in areas where governments or bandits or even revolutionaries were withholding aid for whatever reason. 

It was like playing god in some respects and. daily, Jesse had to tell himself that he was not, that he did not need more power for self-gratification, although that too was becoming ever more tough.

His team's reputation was growing hourly, and where initially Jesse and his team had started out having to take hits while trading for snippets, now information was flowing almost non-stop. They had a policy of not paying for information, only trading byte for byte, so that what they got was pretty reliable, and Jesse sifted through the lot, putting bits and pieces together in order to see bigger pictures.

He was tough on his close friends too, making all of them, including Adam, trade information with him. Wouldn't want anyone accusing his team of favoritism, even though it was known that the Cyberteam didn't deal with extremists and AV's.

The Cyberteam's network had two faces, the topside dealing in information and producing cash and supplies while the underside appropriated it all, stealing via diverted funds and altered bills of lading. But, as all policy decisions were down to him, and especially with the rising frequency of conflicts of interest, that feeling of power just wouldn't stop growing.

*****

When Brennan met with Jesse at a café that was still running, an old generator powering the place and nailed up boards replacing once spotless chrome and glass windows, he really couldn't tell which one of them looked worse. Jesse was buzzing, probably on a caffeine high the way he was inhaling the stuff, and his disheveled and gauntly pale state behind his sunglasses was probably more to do with neglect than anything more dangerous.  At least he'd shaved.

He knew he looked bad himself, but his natural cynicism had taken a blow. Being cynical, even outrageously pessimistic at times, meant that he was rarely disappointed and mostly pleasantly surprised, which had previously helped him on his merry way through life. In recent weeks however, his by now cynical pessimism was being regularly exceeded by reality, and that was depressing him more each day.

Up until now he'd been one of Jesse's main sources of information, but he needed more than that, something to keep reminding him he was alive, that this wasn't all a nightmare that wouldn't go away. He needed something to give him faith in his own ability to make a difference. 

He listened to Jesse's proposal, considered it, countered it and shook on a gentleman's agreement.

An agreement that meant Jesse now had a field agent that extended his appropriation section to the more physical acquisitions. as well as a mother hen that would pop in occasionally to make sure his fridge was stocked and that he saw sunlight. And Brennan now had many an opportunity to have fun with his own particular talents, which gave him a new lease of life and began to help focus his goals.

As he only did part-time work for Cyberteam, in order to maintain and expand his resources Brennan found himself running a lot of those resources himself. He built his own team of thieves with a strict code and traded goods and information in exchange for taking on Cyberteam jobs. 

He quickly found that he'd taken too much on, couldn't be in more than one place at once and needed a lieutenant. One girl in particular came to his notice. Down to earth and an honest thief, only ever out to make money for herself, Kathy Lee became his Capo, taking charge when he was away on his solo missions and soon becoming a little more.

*****


	5. Minus 09 Months

**-9 Months**

Proxy Blue looked out from the screen as snarkily cheery as always, that electronic glint in her eye somehow a little duller today. "The movers and shakers are moving and shaking right now, as the natural disasters and sabotage continue to escalate. 

Elsewhere, the disgraced genetic modifications company, Genomex, has launched a new product, something called the Flexible Sub Dermal Governor 2022, complete with variable control. Or to you and me, the SGFlex. So, what happened to the other 2021 versions, and where are the lab rats used to make the thing so advanced? And was there any such thing as a non-flexible version? In such trying times as these, why is there a price tag so high only a few people can afford it, instead of being a standard issue neutralizing mechanism? And guess what? The senate has endorsed using them at will. No licenses, no rights, no laws. 

"The entire exposure of Genomex as the foundation of all mutants forced its stocks to collapse and has initiated a takeover by LexMor. Take a guess which conglomerate LexMor belongs to, although interestingly enough Mason Eckhart still retains the helm at Genomex. The timing also coincided with the abrupt changes in White House staff, not to mention the Cabinet re-shuffles in Downing Street and the Russian Premier going down with a sudden case of pneumonia, to cite some examples. Many of these changes involve the insertion of new staff with connections to companies run by a small group of backbench senators, one of which owns LexMor. Coincidence?

"Mutant in-fighting is causing some consternation all round as two major factions seem to be clashing regularly. The AV's and the Mutant Freedom Fighters can't seem to get along. Maybe someone thinks they'll take each other out and save the rest of us the trouble. After all, this could have been the catalyst for the discovery and subsequent decimation of the mutant underground. So many mutants were caught that camps, or to use that politically correct quaint colloquialism, 'freak farms', to contain them have been set up. But how do you contain people that can walk through walls and manipulate minds? Keep the stories coming, fair citizens; my job security is ensured."

*****

Mason Eckhart was fuming as he watched Morrisen's people swarm all over his work. The only positive points he could see were that at least the government contracts were more secure than they'd ever been, and his own place as Morrisen's number two was safe for the moment. However, there were secrets buried deep within Genomex that he did not want anyone discovering, let alone that megalomaniac. 

He recognized the move for what it was, of course; a way of bringing him to heel because, without Genomex, he would go the same way as Byrnes. Eckhart supposed he should be flattered that Morrisen thought that he was that great a threat and ally. He just needed to make sure that LexMor found nothing of note to send back to Morrisen. Which was why he'd given them the SGFlex, something he'd been planning to keep for his own use, but which turned out to be an effective diversion. 

Not only did it neutralize, but also gave fine control to whoever had the master controller, it's neurotechnology latched on at the sub-molecular level in order to configure itself to the individual in question, enabling partial use of powers as well as more mundane location boundaries and the like. A beautiful device that he was proud of and resented having to give away, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

One thing he was quite certain of, however; he would eject Morrisen from his throne of power if it was the last thing he did.

*****

For once, Emma was grateful that her powers had become so well developed over the last few years. Her mental shields were immensely strong now, blocking out the thoughts and feelings of those around her, which was good because, so much of the time, what she was getting these days was sharp, strong and dark. Resentment was growing fast, as well as anger and terror.

She'd already seen some psionics go crazy from the sensory assault, especially among those who were suffering growth spurts in a time where there were no sanctuaries to which to escape and take the time build mental defenses. 

With the AV's outrageous rampages ongoing and increasing, the initial influx of people who wanted the middle ground had vanished and Emma was finding that those who would listen were rapidly growing fewer. Contact with Shalimar directly was becoming worryingly intermittent and routed through Jesse more often than not, as the feral and her teams were spending most of their time taking on the AV's. 

And the AV's seemed to be the one group where the Cyberteam's information was thin on the ground. What they got was spot on but, unable to find an in further up the ladder, they were relying on ground level leaks which were often too late for effective action to be taken.

Jeff and Julie were of the opinion that Emma was too vulnerable to be out in the open so much and this seemed validated when the first of what was to be many meetings turned into a fight - or more likely an AV ambush. Emma had demonstrated her own offensive powers for the first time then, shaking the rest of her team who'd had no idea how powerful she really was, understanding then that she would only use it if she absolutely had to. She too had been shaken at the violence of the attack on her, the pain she'd been in and that she'd been pushed to using her power so harshly.

But she was also determined, and wasn't going to let a little physical pain stop her when she needed to get the far worse mental pain to stop. 

*****

The obliteration of the underground was devastating to the mutants, both in terms of practicality and morale, and depression hung like shroud among the mutant population. 

Kathy and Brennan spent long evenings talking. It was only natural that, though the evening talks started out as de/briefings, they should turn to more worldly matters and eventually to each other. There was nothing so strong or perfect as love, it was simply mutual understanding and need, nothing more.

During one of their evening talks, after a couple of beers, Brennan talked about resurrecting the underground. But differently.  Not like Adam had run it, one smooth operation which worked the most efficiently but was vulnerable, so that once one part had been discovered the rest just followed. But more like the slave underground railways, where each 'station' was compartmentalized, never knowing exactly where the cargo was coming from or going to. So that if one 'station' was discovered, the railway was simply diverted via another 'station'. A little more haphazard, but much safer.

They planned it out in the manner one does after some alcohol. But unlike most fantasies, this one was still alive in Brennan's mind the following morning. And with Kathy at his side rallying troops while he planned and organized, a new Underground Railway was born.

 *****  
  



	6. Minus 08 Months

**-8 Months**

Proxy Blue had a new expression on her face for once. It was almost disapproval. "Yesterday the Chicago Tribune printed a story that Genomex had proof that mutants were not on the same sentient scale as humans, due to the animal DNA spliced in. They may walk and talk, but that's all just programming, according to the report, and they're no more human than a complex organic robot. What do people think a human being is? And besides, do none of these people read Asimov? I feel almost insulted. Today, pretty much every other paper in existence has picked the story up, and well, the pen is mightier than the sword for a reason. Human rights are remarkably quiet, and animal rights have been quoted as saying that mutants are outside their pervue, that they simply don't have the resources. When it comes to ferals, I wonder where exactly they draw the line.

"Clashes between the AV's and Freedom Fighters are becoming fewer but far more vicious. If I were paranoid I'd think that maybe someone views the Freedom Fighters as a threat. After all, wasn't the AV's agenda to take down humans?

"And one last little tidbit. The psionic intern who claimed to be able to project people's thoughts into other people's brains, remember him? The same intern who last week threatened to expose corruption within the senate and the White House. Well, that was a story forgotten in a day as he was put into protective custody for his own good, and of course, with the National Enquirer backing him, any credibility was lost. It seems that last night, however, he had a nasty accident with a steak knife.  I bet there are a few people breathing easier today. 

"It's little snippets like this that make it all worthwhile, so keep them coming, kiddies!" 

*****

Lena McEnery looked up as her partner crashed into their office. "So, what's upset the FBI's finest today?"

 "Darlene's been taken to interrogation for questioning!" Darius Johnson flopped into his chair. "I mean, she's just a gopher, and it's like they arrested my great aunt Ethel or something."

"Darlene?" Lena was astounded. "Why?"

"Grapevine has it because her hair is blue. Now that part I don't believe for a moment."

"And that makes her what, a suspect? A mutant? A conspirator?" Lena asked.

"No, but - and this part I believe, if not the reason for it - it makes her a suspect for Proxy Blue."

"Proxy - ? Oh, shit!" Lena slammed the desk with the palm of her hand.

"Exactly my thought," Darius said grimly. "So what do we do about it?"

*****

Eckhart was not best pleased to see Adam welcomed into the inner circle, and had advised Morrisen against it. However, the ruling seat thought it could be amusing to have the two co-founders of the mutant movement here to express their views. Eckhart failed to see how that could be in the slightest bit humorous, but put up with it as one of the many he prices he had to pay, prices he was keeping strict account of. And he tolerated it despite the supercilious smile Adam had taken to wearing, secure in the knowledge that Adam was just a pawn in the Circle's games.

*****

Emma's last contact with Shalimar had been fraught and heated, and had frightened the psionic no end.

Shalimar was telling Emma to run, that their main base had been compromised and, over the web-link, Emma could see the fighting approaching. She protested, suggesting they rejoin forces, but Shalimar negated that with a growl, telling her to run and stay low until Adam contacted her, that she'd get in touch with her once they'd relocated.

Emma hadn't needed her powers to know that the feral didn't believe that she was going to get out alive and she couldn't break the web-link even after Shalimar had switched her end off. It was only Julie's strong hand on her shoulder that eventually brought her back to the here and now. 

Brushing angry tears aside, she told her people that like it or not, they were running to ground.

*****  
  



	7. Minus 07 Months

**-7 Months**

It was a slightly somber Proxy Blue on the telecast. "Word has it that the AV's have destroyed the Freedom Fighters' headquarters, which certainly explains the rise in AV activity. It really doesn't matter what you think of the Freedom Fighters, the one thing I think we're all now discovering is that they kept the AV's in check. There's a rumor that the Freedom Fighters are regrouping and I for one hope that's true, because the human forces are woefully inadequate. They only seem capable of capturing mutants that don't want to fight.

"Some of you may have noticed an absence of Blueness the last couple of weeks. There are innocent people who are being arrested for treason and conspiracy, accused of conspiring to broadcast free speech. In other words, each one of those individuals is accused of being me. Well, they're not. The crime is a farce and I'm still here, back on the air.  So all you newshounds out there, get those reports out of the pound and into my kennel."

*****

Emma found herself running not only her own teams, but also Shalimar's. With most of the feral's command core missing in action, her people had made their way to join Emma, or otherwise contacted her, and quite frankly she was overwhelmed.

She'd never realized how much of an impact they'd made until she saw the underground press begging the Freedom Fighters to regroup and come back, pledging support. These were journals published by humans and mutants alike, and Emma wasn't sure she liked what the Freedom Fighters had become. 

They'd never intended to become an army. 

All they'd wanted was to help give mutants a chance. And now the official views held the humans as valiantly fighting the mutant menace, while the underground pictured the humans oppressing the mutant victims. It might have started off with someone propagating the former and be rapidly heading towards the latter, but right now things were in between.

With messages coming in from Adam via Jesse expressing sorrow at the loss of Shalimar and hope that she was still alive somewhere, Adam was also telling Emma to sit tight. But she couldn't just do nothing, so she had Shalimar's teams continue as they were, but with an altered brief where discretion was paramount. They needed to prevent and protect, yet try not to give humans cause to hate them more. 

*****

Brennan let himself into the basement flat of the run-down building that was apparently a part of the Kilmartin empire, glad for a day to rest and just chill for a while. He hadn't told Jesse he was coming, or that he intended to drag him out for the day, knowing full well that if he did the cyber geek would just plug himself into his VR work from which Brennan wouldn't dare tear him loose.

He called out that he was in and put some supplies in the fridge, pleased to note that this time hermit boy had actually used most of his last stock up. As he opened a beer and wandered into the main room, he was pleasantly surprised to find Jesse talking to Adam over the web-link. 

"You should come over and visit," Jesse was saying. "It'd be good to share the goss over a beer."

"I'll be sure to take you up on that." Adam smiled. "Meantime, I'm going places here, and I'm hoping that I'll have enough influential people onside in a few weeks that we can get Emma's people meeting with them."

"That's great news!" Jesse paused before asking tensely, "I don't suppose you've heard anything on Shal?"

"You're the gossip bureau!" Adam snapped suddenly, before rubbing tired eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Jesse's face was hard, muscles clenching, "and don't forget, without contributions the gossip bureau doesn't exist - and that includes yours."

"I said, I'm sorry!" Adam gritted his teeth. "I haven't heard anything, but – Damn! Listen, I have to go. Ermintrude has issued a summons." He rolled his eyes, and Jesse smiled. Peace between them. "Say hi to Brennan for me," he finished up and the screen went blank.

There was something not right there, and Brennan felt the renewed need to keep his cards close to his chest when it came to Adam, one reason why he hadn't announced his presence. Just a gut feeling that was maybe just paranoia, but he'd learned to trust his self-preservation instincts.

Jesse closed off the connection and spun his seat around. He was virtually cocooned in monitors, servers and wiring, and Brennan really didn't want to think about the fire hazard. At least with Jesse's talents, it wasn't so big a worry that he'd be caught out, but still... "Didn't know you were coming today."

"I know," Brennan threw Jesse's jacket at him. "Grab your shoes and sunglasses, and let's get out in the sun."

"It's raining," Jesse objected. "How can I get sun?"

"It's more sun than you see right now. White is so not your color."

Jesse snorted and did as Brennan bade. "You don't look so shit hot yourself," he remarked. And Brennan knew that the younger man wasn't wholly kidding. He'd lost weight, was far too tired and couldn't remember the last time he'd changed his clothes. "Maybe it's your turn to start looking after me."

As Jesse winced at the dull gray light and muttered about its brightness as he put his wrap around sunglasses on. "I didn't ask you to nanny me, and I'm sure as hell not nanny-ing you."

"Jeez, you're getting crotchety in your old age," Brennan sniggered. "All that power and money at your disposal and you look like a bag lady."

Looking him up and down with an incredulous eye, Jesse retorted, "Pot, kettle and black mean anything to you?"

Brennan sniffed. "Nah." After a short silence as they walked to nowhere in particular, he asked. "Do you think we'll see an end to all this?"

Jesse hesitated slightly. "Do you want an honest answer?" Brennan hesitated in turn, before nodding. 

"If we can keep going, the war will burn itself out. The trick is, not to let the fighting stop. Because even if Adam and Emma get to the peace table, while there are those in power who don't want mutants to have any rights then their work will fail. We have to take those people out of the equation or let the whole thing come to a natural conclusion."

Shocked, Brennan looked at his friend again. "And you were supposed to be the idealist."

Jesse laughed, and it wasn't a pleasant sound. "Lost that months ago. And you know what really scares me? There's a big part of me, a part I have to fight every day, that doesn't want it to end at all. Because I'm really doing something effective. In my own right. I can decide other people's destinies, who flourishes and falls, who lives and dies." He paused and stopped to look at Brennan, his face unreadable behind the sunglasses. "You run the Underground Railway, you must have some idea what I'm talking about."

Brennan had no idea what the younger man meant, only knowing that it wasn't good, that he was losing the person he used to know. But if he was realistic, he was changing too. "No, I don't understand, but see, my life has always been about fighting and taking, living for the thrill of it all, and so long as I can **do** I'll always have that. Your life has always been about fighting for control. Maybe now that you have it, and then some, it's a bitch to deal with."

"Yeah," said Jesse, continuing their walk. "For both of us."

They didn't know what to say to each other any more, and Brennan left earlier than he'd intended to. 

*****

Shalimar held Vernon in her lap while one of the others bound his gashed leg. They were in a prison where lethal fights were the norm, with over a hundred mutants squashed into one large room, and overlooked by open grilles through which guards watched over and taunted them. She had no clue where they were, only that they'd been taken by air for a few hours and that it was hot and humid here, with a staple diet of rice.

There was only one exit; one door, followed by a short corridor with gun slits in the walls, and then another door, ensuring that no ambush or escape was possible that way. People had tried and been shot down, shocking everyone with the AV's willingness to kill their own to keep the prisoners in line. They all had sub-dermal governors, the original kind, and Shalimar had to wonder where they all came from. No way that the AV's just had them lying around. 

With Vernon and Ollie with her, a slightly bemusing indication that some of the other 'neutralized mutants' were likely to be humans, she felt a secure in her own space. But the occupants of this pit were half starved and in pain - not ones that could be organized into a revolt, even if there were a way to stage one.

She could only bide her time and hope that one day she'd have fresh air and daylight once again.

*****

Mason Eckhart looked at his monitor in disbelief. LexMor technicians had actually managed to not only discover, but also decrypt and break open files that had been sealed by his best cyberpaths. 

He could only pray that Morrisen's people were genetically clueless and didn't understand the contents of those files.

*****


	8. Minus 06 Months

**-6 Months**

  
Proxy Blue had lost her sarcastic smile, her expression becoming increasingly blank and dispassionate. "In a shocking precedence, it has been made illegal for psionic mutants to roam free. The legal blah, as we all know, says it's compulsory for psionics to be registered because of the fear of these mutants playing head-fuck. But read the small print, boys and girls, and you'll see that all registered psionics are to be shipped off to glorified concentration camps, and we all know what that's a nice euphemism for. Would this have been allowed to go through if we weren't under martial law? Wonder how many steak knives the inmates will be allowed in these freak farms. Tell me what's going on people. Proxy lives for news."

*****

"So, Mr. Kane, Adam. What do you think of my proposal?"

"Well…" Adam paused as he thought the other man's words through. "William, I think your proposal needs a little work, although I'm with you in principle. But you know that."

"Yes, Adam, I do," said Senator Morrisen around his cigar. "I just needed to be certain."

*****

With growing horror, Eckhart saw the reports that Morrisen must already have seen. The reports that translated all of his dark and secret files, the ones that exposed the damning fact that Eckhart himself was not quite human. The tests he'd conducted on himself during one his more misguided moments, the ones that had virtually destroyed his pigmentation and cellular regeneration abilities.

At best Morrisen would keep him around as a pet to laugh at.  But he would not allow that, would never again have people laughing at him.

So he decided to take the only route that seemed viable. Retreat to one of his overseas holdings to regroup and figure out how to take back everything he'd lost.

*****  
  



	9. Minus 05 Months

**-5 Months**

"So," said Proxy Blue, scowling slightly, "who was surprised that one of the most influential men in politics today turned out to be a mutant of sorts? Mason Eckhart has been ousted, and in the true tradition of war, a tradition for which the Nazi's were condemned, a tradition that goes back through history, to before the Vikings raped and pillaged their way through England's fair countryside, before the Roman's stamped their eagle on Europe, right back to cave men that fought over food, everything that had Eckhart's name on it now belongs to… wait, let me see... LexMor, Morrisen Corporation, Langley Finance, Genomex and a few others I could name. Wonder if dear Mason has figured that out yet.

"Actually, it seems as though an awful lot of mutants are having their worldly goods confiscated. Remember Dirk Van Hansen of the Van Hansen coalfields? He's a mutant. Apparently. Not even his own family knew. If fact, not even he knew, so he claims. He thought he just had a natural talent for finding coal. Apparently. If his birth certificate isn't lying he's a little old to be a New Mutant, but what the hell, it's a good excuse to appropriate finance.  And given the mysterious re-routing of certain unhappy campers' funds, they're sorely needed to buy essentials such as caviar, champagne and oh, what a surprise, SGFlex's. 

"And since when did mutants get arrested just for being mutants? Check out your local cop shop and you'll find out someone slipped a law through when no one was looking. Don't forget to send me postcards, kiddies. There's no beating those seaside pix."

*****

The perimeter alarms propelled Jesse out of his VR world and into the real with a sudden shock. A quick glance at the security monitor and he leapt out of his chair to check the windows. His worst nightmare had come true. Even now, soldiers with gas masks were running from the peripheral barricades that had been set up with canisters in their hands. This was no random raid; they'd come here searching specifically for him, which meant they had a fair idea of what he was doing.

Reinforced glass was no match for high-powered rifles, and the canisters crashed through, releasing their poison. But he couldn't escape, not yet; his team, all his contacts - he needed to destroy everything that would connect anyone else to him, while preserving everything he'd put together. It was fortunate that he'd set up for various scenarios, his capture or death included.

He could feel the gas seeping in through his skin, and massed to try and buy himself some more time. But the gas still buried determinedly through, resulting in biting pain as it split his skin apart, forcing him to de-mass. 

A few keys and his personal stores of information were locked and keyed for access only by particular people who might stay alive and free. A quick pre-prepared coded signal to his team with instructions on keeping a minimum-risk operation going without being compromised by forced diversification was sent out. 

Phasing was worse. Not painful at all, but the gas was just there, inside, bonding with his cells.  He could feel it, invasive and parasitic, and knew it was a gas that had obviously been made especially for him.

And then the final key. He hesitated over that one, as it would mean the end of his short but powerful empire, and that part of him he'd been fighting was screaming at him to die defending it. But there was more than his own selfish needs and wants here, other people who could carry on the fight, and he would much rather die defending **them**.

He pressed the key and fell to his knees as the gas attacked his nervous system, wondering if a three-minute time delay was perhaps a little much. But whatever happened, no one would get their hands on his work. He fell to the floor, and the last thing he saw were Doc Martens crashing in and stopping an inch from his nose.

*****

Brennan knew he'd never get that picture out of his mind. He'd arrived in time to see soldiers wearing gas masks dragging Jesse's limp body out of the flat and bundling him into the meat wagon.  But the thing which would always stay in his mind was the fire that started suddenly in the basement and reared up to consume the entire building, sending soldiers and government tecchies screaming as they were ruthlessly immolated for daring to violate one molecular's sanctuary.

Cursing violently, he left the scene. He didn't know how to get in contact with Adam or Emma, but in any case his first priority was to sever any and all connections that either of his teams had with Cyberteam, for their own protection. Until someone in Cyberteam broadcast a universal all-clear, they had to be considered compromised.

*****

Mason Eckhart stood in the middle of a burnt and barren space, looking somberly at what had been his smallest and most out of touch center, hiddeb in the heart of the hard, wind blown deserts of the Sudan. Razed to the ground. 

He'd found every possible haven destroyed or taken over by Morrisen, or Langley or one of the other Inner Circle members. He'd tried staying in hotels, and then motels, but only hard cash was acceptable in most places, of which he had none.  And he'd found out the hard way that his credit cards were blocked. 

He had nowhere, and no one to run to. Except maybe one, one who might accommodate. Equally, that one person might kill him, but at least that person's hatred was honest. Perhaps it could be made to see reason. 

He had one last favor he could call in that would get him to where he needed to be. But then he would truly have nothing but the clothes on his back. 

What a joke.

*****

"Emma!"

The psionic stood still, halting mid-word the discussion she was having with one of the patrols. Julie came to stand next to her, fully aware that she didn't need to speak the words for Emma, but doing so anyway for the benefit of those without psionic abilities.

"I'm sorry. All reports indicate that the AV's terminated all prisoners. We didn't find her body among the dead, or any of her core team, but the AV's we caught were adamant that… well, I'm sorry."

"And those that we caught? What of them?"

"The usual."

"Of course." Most AV's were surprisingly easily converted to the Freedom Fighters, or at least convinced to step out of the war, go to one of the refugee camps - not the nicest of places, but the Underground Railway made sure they were clean and looked after, while Cyberteam kept supplies running in. A very few AV's, however, chose to commit suicide when caught. They were normally the extreme of the extreme, many of whom were too convinced that they had nothing left to live for. 

"There's more," Julie said quietly. "I picked this up from coms on the way in." She held a piece of paper forward.

Emma's eyes were already blurring with tears at the knowledge that her best friend, hyperactive and wildly passionate in all things, must be presumed killed in action. The sorrow radiating out from those nearest to her was almost too much for even her shields to bear. "Read it for me," she said softly.

Julie cleared her throat. "Cyberteam have issued statements from different sections, all saying pretty much the same thing. Cyberteam Central Control has been destroyed, the team leader taken or killed. Without the unifying core, Cyberteam will no longer be able to perform as expected. They will, however, continue to provide services as and when feasible, and regular supply runs that were not directly coordinated from Central Control will continue unaffected. They thank you for your consideration in this matter." 

"Jesse," Emma whispered, tears falling freely now, before she fainted.

*****  
  



	10. Minus 04 Months

**-4 Months**

Proxy Blue regarded her audience with what seemed to be an air of contempt. "Word has it that someone has been cherry picking psionics on their way to the freak farms, building a little mental task force. Who could that be? Someone with official connections, obviously. But someone trying to climb the ladder? Or someone trying to consolidate what they already have? Scuttlebutt says that someone in Genomex got paid off. Watch this space.

"Talking of money, yet another rich kid bites the dust as the last of the Kilmartins was arrested last month for being a mutant and a dissident. Apparently they kept this one quiet because he was a key member of Cyberteam too. Well, I can personally vouch for the fact that Cyberteam is very much still alive and kicking, albeit going through structural changes - but aren't we all these days? Hands up those who think that kid's arrest has more to do with all that money and real estate now lining someone else's pockets? 

"And how many of you out there are making any protest at these convenient little laws that keep cropping up? These little laws that could just violate the Constitution a tiny bit? Read it recently? Shame on you! Keep the scoops coming, ladies and gents, this girl is **hungry**."

*****

The person, **thing** that Eckhart had come to see was living in conditions that almost had him turning on his heel. He had thought that Wally's accommodation would be slightly more up market, given the modest but ongoing compensation he received from Genomex. But perhaps here in a shantytown Wally found it easier to fit in, and right now, Eckhart was far too aware that a beggar couldn't be a chooser.

Wally was feral. The very first feral. A guinea pig who'd allowed his body to be experimented upon in exchange for money. They hadn't meant to change anything about Wally, only see if they could splice some dormant rat DNA into an adult human.

They could, and Wally's results had been instrumental in creating the ferals as they were today. Unfortunately for Wally, he got to spend the rest of his life looking like exactly what he was - a human and rat hybrid.

But at that point he'd been more naïve even than Adam, and the thought of putting a living person into cold storage had nauseated him just too much. So he'd made sure Wally got looked after. Wally had a kind of love and hate for him, his mind too simple for absolute hate when the object of that feeling also gave him kindness. 

So, crossing his fingers that Wally might be able to give him some temporary shelter, Eckhart took a deep breath and knocked at the metal wall of the shanty where Wally lived, hoping that his… investment… was in a receptive mood.

*****

Jesse had no energy left at all, hanging between the two soldiers and letting them carry his weight. Consciousness was at best intermittent, zooming in and out every second or three. He was bruised and bloody and doped up to the gills from their attempts to get information on the rest of Cyberteam and any other mutants, and he was quietly proud of himself that everything he gave them, all of it involuntarily, was about as useful as snow in Alaska. His recent lifestyle, and the electronic plan he'd put in place, meant that he literally knew nothing that was of any use to anyone, and the little he did know about Brennan, Emma and Adam, they never asked.

He grinned to himself, even giggled, though he suspected that was just in his head. Speaking of which, someone raised his head by his hair which probably should've hurt if it wasn't for the fact that everything else hurt more. Through his swollen eyes it kind of looked like Adam.

"I'll have him fitted with an SGFlex, and put him to work in one of the mines," said someone else. "A molecular of his caliber should replace at least one of automatons that worked down there before the AV's destroyed them."

"Good idea," the Adam person said. "He's not been working out recently and the exercise will do him good."

"Huh?" But his brain couldn't keep up anymore and chose that instant to switch to standby.

"Why did you have the AV's destroy so much?" Adam asked Morrisen once they were alone again.

"Excuse me?" The other man only hesitated an instant as he poured drinks for them both.

"Come on, William, I'm not stupid. I know that you're behind the AV's. Even Proxy Blue's been telling the world for the last few months if you know how to read between the lines. Frankly I'm surprised no one else has figured it out by now."

"Well." Morrisen handed Adam a drink and took a sip of his own. "It's that obvious, is it?"

Adam shrugged. "I think so. Not that I'm about to tell anyone; it's not in my interests to. But I would like to know why."

Morrisen shrugged. "Control of the AV's is not absolute. They do a lot of things without my specific say so. I consider myself more of a guiding force than any kind of leader. And as long as they run around frothing at the mouth, humans will be terrified of all mutants. It's their nature to tar everyone with the same brush. Cyberteam won't last long and, once the Freedom Fighters and the Underground Railway are beheaded, I can get rid of the AV's and we'll be left with a slave race. And as history from around the world shows, from Egyptian and Roman, through Chinese and Indian and even American, there is nothing so profitable - socially, politically and most importantly, economically - as slavery. The economy is in tatters due to the war and Cyberteam, and it's only right that they pay their dues."

Adam smiled wolfishly as he took mouthful of a warm liqueur. "Then I look forward to the day that they're all off the streets."

*****


	11. Minus 03 Months

**-3 Months**

Proxy Blue's sarcastic smile was firmly back in place. "Things are too quiet, people! I can tell you anecdotes about abandoned human babies getting adopted by the ferals next door, or the ATM Speedster who moves so fast to grab your money, you think the machine hasn't spit it out, or even the legendary mermaid that's been spotted in Central Park. Boring! Feed me!"  

*****

Adam accepted his change of seat to Morrisen's right hand with good grace, and kept in mind the promise that he would have not only Genomex, but LexMor at his disposal to conduct the research he'd always wanted to do, but not had time, money, facilities, or free rein to do.

He just had two small problems to iron out, and he'd be secure.

*****

It was with a mixture of trepidation, excitement and relief that Emma waited in the old abandoned Mutant X safe house. She had Julie and Jeff with her as always and felt like a little girl with her mommy and daddy waiting for the school principal.

She was well aware that she'd changed a great deal in the last nine months or so, and it felt weird being here now. She was looking forward to seeing Adam, though, and relieved that he'd apparently organized things so that there was a chance for mutants to talk with those in power, under civilized circumstances.

A click, and steel shutters blocked doors and windows. Jeff's body turned dull silver as he threw himself at the door, making significant dents but unable to break it open. 

White fog and gas was clouding the air, making them choke. Emma opened up her mind, focused tightly and hit those hiding in the walls with their worst nightmares. As Julie looked desperately for someone to beat up, Emma was thankful that broadband hadn't been necessary this time; she hated hurting such good friends.

Jeff continued to batter away, the door starting to give, but the gas was winning and seconds later all sounds of choking stopped as all three of them slipped into a drugged sleep.

*****

"Hey," Kathy poked Brennan in the ribs as he took a break after setting the latest car of mutants along their way.

"Hiya," he smiled, reaching out for her, but she pulled away. "What's up?"

"Ah, I'm sorry Bren," she shrugged, "I'm going to have to take off for a while. Family problems, you know how it is. Be back soon though."

"Sure," Brennan said, thinking she was going to leave a big hole in things while she was gone, a possibility he hadn't thought about before. Yes, she scratched an itch in his personal life, but she did so much of the day-to-day administration and organization that he wasn't entirely certain that he could cope without her. Maybe he should help her make sure she wasn't gone too long. "Want me to tag along?" he offered.

"Nah. Tell you what, though, you could give me a lift out to Maxi's - the old scrap yard, you know it? I said I'd meet up there with a friend'll take me home."

"Want the company?"

She gave him an embarrassed smile. "Ya could say."

The short trip was full of their normal banter, but as they stood outside Maxi's sharing a hug and kiss, it started to rain. 

Brennan pulled back laughing, and Kathy did too, but her laughter wasn't playful. The rain was a fire hose and, as Kathy moved away, it was aimed at him full force by soldiers. The water meant he couldn't power up and the pressure meant he couldn't keep his feet. Helpless, he was held virtually immobile against the fence that marked the boundary of Maxi's yard. He didn't feel the tranquillizer dart, only felt the effects as the water overcame him and he sank into sleep, uncertain whether the vision of Kathy collecting a wad of money was an hallucination or not. 

*****

Victoria Langley had been intrigued by Adam Kane, and would have considered courting him if Morrisen hadn't latched on to him. However, she was more curious about Adam's former pets, had been for a long time. 

Previous to her political career, she'd been married one of the top men in the CIA. Of course, Harold had passed away a few years ago, right after he'd taken an early retirement. Fortunately for her. She'd met with one or two of Harold's operatives over the years, and one in particular had popped up on more than one occasion.

The younger Noah Kilmartin had caught her eye, dashing, charming and rich, although in recent years all that had changed. Apart from the rich part. And last she heard, official documents be damned, he was rotting away in some central African prison. 

Noah could never have been hers, not with Harold around, and Harold was too valuable to risk her marriage. But now that the son had been swept under the carpet, as it were, she saw an opportunity. A couple of months should be long enough that she could make sure he was swept under **her** share of the carpet, yet not too long that he'd have starved to death or something equally undesirable.

With a little discreet investigation and a few favors traded, one filthy creature in chains dripped mud, dirt and other sludgy substances on the beautiful cream fur rug that adorned the hallway of her country house. 

Her perfectly groomed afghan hound obediently at her side, she glided around the creature that came with two guards attached, examining him. He was lean, perhaps too lean, but stood straight and proud, his muscles strong and hard edged from hard labor. The SGFlex glinted dully at the back of his neck and blue eyes, although bloodshot and squinting, burned with defiance.

"For goodness sake, get the boy cleaned up, then we can see about his training. Raymond," she addressed a tall man waiting quietly by the door. "I want that boy as obedient as Princess." She stroked the afghan's head. "And you are responsible for making sure that happens any way necessary."

*****


	12. Minus 02 Months

**-2 Months**

"It's pretty hot out there right now," Proxy Blue announced, looking slightly gleeful. "Bad news for the mutants' teams, though - it looks like the humans win. But what will happen next? A quick look through the scorecard shows the AV's out of the game with an unexpected collapse just ten days ago. Mr. Big withdrew, let a little leak drip, and instant annihilation by our good troops who knew just when and where to be. Add to that the effective decapitation of the Underground Railway and the Freedom Fighters, bolstered by a Cyberteam that's frankly been quite shaky and intermittent the last couple of months, and the mutants are in disarray. 

"And talking AV's, it seems they have, or rather had, a prison south of the Gulf somewhere. I'm told that there's no threat from that area, though, as a lynch mob… uh, I mean, a group of concerned citizens with Uzi's shot everyone in the place. How considerate of them.

"Hunting down mutants and shipping them out of sight, out of mind, is common practice these days, and there's been huge support for having them do the work to repair the damage they caused. But some people have taken to using the odd detainee for personal use. Remember those SGFlex's? They're commonly used in the work place now, but you can buy the deluxe version to have your very own pet mutant. If you want to see proof, then catch CNN's lunchtime bulletin when Senator Langley will be purchasing the very first license to own a controlled mutant. A molecular to repair her mutant-ravaged gardens. Apparently.

"Pretty forward at going backwards aren't we? Scandals, gossip and behind the scenes clangers, give them all to me, baby!"

*****

Emma stared out of the barred window, trying to get a glimpse of sky above the gray walls that surrounded her limited view as she cradled her broken arm with bleeding fingers. She'd get no medical treatment as she was scheduled to be murdered today. They'd told her that. The way all psionics were gotten rid of.

With her special mental training she'd been able to resist the drugs, or at least enough that they didn't believe a word she'd told them. But she had a low pain threshold, and though she'd tried, she'd really tried, in the end, she'd told them anything and everything, begging them to stop. Her one pathetic attempt at saving herself from her own conscience had been mixing lies in, so that maybe, just maybe, she'd told sufficient lies that the truth she'd spilled would be hidden long enough for her people to realize and get themselves safe.

She hadn't seen Jeff and Julie since Adam had betrayed them all - and she had no doubt that he had. He'd been there when they'd thought she was unconscious. Knowing that, and knowing that she wouldn't be alive much longer, had given her strange feeling of serenity. The pain of her injuries was distant, and emotions were no longer a part of her.

So she didn't resist when they opened her door and pulled her down the hallway. She expected them to take her to the sickbay, the room where people were either got fixed up or killed. She was mildly surprised when they took her back to the interview room she'd gotten to know intimately. One last interrogation, then.

But no, she was shoved down into the hard wooden seat opposite a man she recognized from the news. 

"They tell me you're a telempath," Senator Morrisen said as he lit a cigar.

Emma simply stared at him blankly. She was so used to the interrogations that it was habit to not answer questions for as long as possible.

"Ms de Lauro." Morrisen leaned forward. "This is not an interrogation. I simply wish to ascertain if you are suitable for a small project I have running. One where you would join a small group of other psionics and work for me. I can't promise that you won't end up back here if you don't fit in, but either way, it would be a, ah, stay of execution. I need a telempath, as the one I had was not suitable at all."

Emma blinked slowly. Morrisen was anti-mutant, therefore anything he was doing was bound to be detrimental to mutants, in which case she'd rather stay here and visit the sickbay. But, if she lived to fight another day, she could maybe find a way to fight back. 

"Yes," she said eventually, the serenity settling heavy over her like an invisible shroud. "I am."

*****

Brennan limped out of the meat wagon along with three others, all of whom were also elementals, and resisted the urged to squint and rub at his swollen face - not that the chains would let him move his hands by much. He kept trying to fight and kept being beaten down, but he was determined to keep fighting until the end.

They'd interrogated him, trying to get him to betray the Underground Railway, and he had no doubt that he'd given away far more than he ever wanted to know. The beatings and physical torture he could resist, but there was no getting round the drugs. The irony was, if he'd got caught it was Kathy who was supposed to have changed things so that any information that was forced out of him would be useless. And vice versa. There were two others in that loop too. Trouble was, with Kathy on the take, that whole damage limitation plan fell completely apart. The thought that he might've sent people to their deaths made him sick to the core.

Right now though, he was a little puzzled as to why they were at a power station. This was the Florida magnox plant, where one of the AV's had turned the entire core into granite. It was a huge station built into the hills away from the tourists.

They were led through corridors and up stairs until they came out onto a catwalk over a small cavern that held what looked like pods standing on their ends. Rows and rows of them. Hundreds of them. Wires and tubes running uniformly from them all while each pod contained a body. As they walked along and down more stairs, getting closer, Brennan could see that the bodies were writhing and emitting constant energy. Some pods looked like they were on fire inside, others had blue lightning running round, while still others had white webs or red laser effects inside.

And Brennan's personal demons leapt to the fore. He would die before letting them put him in one of those things. He wasn't scared of the pods themselves, but he was terrified of what those pods were doing.

He lashed out, yanking his chains violently, feeling them give slightly, grateful that they hadn't been made for moleculars, but the guards couldn't miss his angry movements. Brennan did his absolute best given the circumstances, even managed to make contact with a satisfying crunch of a guard's nose, but it was inevitable that a prolonged jolt from a taser would eventually shock him into submission. 

Then he was locked down in a pod with no hope of escape. They cut his clothes away and left him there for a long while until the men in white coats arrived. He cursed them every which way while they hooked him up to tubes and wires, fiddled with his SGFlex, and ignored his tirade of threats and curses. They shut the pod and locked it before a humming told him it was activated. And an instant later, he was screaming as he was sucked dry from the inside out, his powers raging out of control within his tiny prison.

*****

Jesse sat on the padded windowsill of the gym housed in Senator Langley's small country mansion, staring out at the pristine gardens and blue sky. 

He didn't remember the destruction and war he'd come from, didn't give his origins any thought at all. He had everything he could ask for here, a suite of opulent rooms all his own, servants to obey his every whim, and expensive clothes. He knew he'd been sick for a while, but Victoria had given him the best care, even so far as a personal instructor to help him get into shape.

He remembered one time, while he'd been sick, he'd woken up naked in bed with just a sheet covering him. Victoria had been there then with a cool flannel, but he hadn't recognized her and scuttled over to the far side of the bed, telling her to leave him alone, rambling madly. She'd looked surprised and laughed.

"You thought I wanted you as a sex slave? Heaven forbid, boy, your imagination is far too vivid. On the other hand, you really shouldn't give me ideas."

For some reason, that comment bothered him although he had no idea why. He didn't understand the pitying looks the staff all gave him, didn't understand why they wouldn't talk with him over and above their duties. But Victoria always there, always wanted him to keep her company. Sometimes she would look a little disappointed. Usually after she'd asked his opinion on something. He didn't have any opinions. On anything. Didn't have many thoughts to call his own.

Sometimes, like now, there was a niggling feeling that something was wrong. But then Victoria would be there, or he'd seek her out, or if she were gone then Princess would keep him company. And the wrong feeling would go away.

Today she'd told him to wear the clothes he had on now. Told him that they were going out. This was the first time he'd be leaving the house since he'd been sick. He'd almost been getting jealous of Princess having her walks. He was a little nervous about going into town, because Victoria had told him that there were many people who weren't as fortunate as him, that might resent his nice clothes and things, that he should keep close to her, that he should smile and accept the certificate some pompous old bird was going to give them. That, when asked, he should show them his special talent.

Jesse had nodded obediently and was just now waiting for Victoria to tell him they were ready to go.

*****

Shalimar was in a deep shock. She remembered gunfire outside, people shouting. They could see the guards falling away from the upper grilles, and for a few cruel moments the prisoners thought rescue had arrived. They called out to let their rescuers know they were there.

But all that happened was that guns pushed through the grilles and opened fire. Shooting fish in a barrel.

There was no one within reach to fight, so all they could do was take shelter behind those already dead. Someone outside found the doors, which were then opened, and those that were still living were cut down as they tried to push through. 

Vernon and Shalimar both wanted to fight even though it was impossibility, so it was Ollie that shoved them both in the corner. And no one asked her opinion on the matter when Vernon suddenly cold-cocked her. 

Stunned, she'd been unable to protest when she felt the bullets riddle Ollie's bulk, slam into Vernon, who looked at her and hissed, 'You **will** survive this, little girl. For us!' before blood red and gray exploded, ending his life. She'd screamed when bullets ploughed into her own flesh, but it was lost among the cacophony of shrieks and wails and whining bullets.

When the screaming and gunfire had stopped, she remembered people making their way partly into the room, opening fire here and there where perhaps they thought they'd seen movement. She'd kept still as possible under the bodies of her friends, biting her own knuckles to keep from so much as breathing too hard.

When they'd gone, she continued to lie still, frightened and shocked, until blood congealed in her hair, stuck to her face and hands, Until her own loss of blood made her faint and rampant infection gave her fever. Until the corpses around her started the process of rotting.

She thought she ought to move some day, but couldn't quite put thoughts into action. Then, much later, more people came. They swore a lot, and started moving the bodies, one by one. She would have fought them, would have tried to run, but she was too shocked and too sick. 

So when a man lifted Ollie off of her, she only hoped he'd put her out of her misery as quickly as possible.

*****


	13. Minus 01 Month

**-1 Month**

Proxy Blue would have been better named Proxy Black, her colours darkened through navy as if in mourning. She looked exactly like what she was. A computer generated head talking blankly and unblinking. "With the war officially over, things are quiet, only the odd outbreak of violence quickly stamped out. There are still mutants out there, but there has been no sign of organised activity in recent weeks - unsurprising since, according to government sources, all key dissidents have been arrested and are awaiting closed trials, while mutant capture teams are growing increasingly proficient at catching the menaces. 

"Those good people, who never let a war get in the way of their work, published this years Fortune Five Hundred. Take a good long look, people, at the politicians that made the top fifty. The top ten makes interesting reading too. And now that we have an outbreak of peace, don't let the goss stop."

***** 

Eckhart sat board stiff on the edge of the cot Wally had so kindly provided for him, trying very hard not to feel the germs and diseases that were infesting every pore. 

It was driving him insane, the itching, burning, festering and desiccating his skin was going through now that his protective dermal covering was starting to break down, and he'd run out of any replacement. His eyeballs had fire ants crawling over them and his nose wouldn't stop running. In a bid to keep some part of his sanity intact, he let the newly insane part take over. The insane part that chattered and drivelled and threw up bits of memory, breaking them up and mashing them into one glutinous mass without form or identity, while leaving his body to rot on the cot.

His rational mind was cowering in the corner, biding its time, peeking out only when Wally brought in what passed for food. Morrisen must have felt insanely threatened by him to have made him public enemy number one and he couldn't step outside without fear of getting lynched. They left him alone here in the hovels, mostly because they were all so wrapped in their own petty worlds that they didn't really care. That, combined with a paranoid distrust of authority in the shantytown meant he was fairly certain he wouldn't be reported.

Things were settling now, though, and perhaps he'd soon be able to move about more. But what could he do? Human society had never cared for those who were different, and now they were positively obsessive about getting rid of them. That had to change. There were still mutants and humans out there who could bring that about, but they needed leadership.  They wouldn't listen to him, but they would listen to five extraordinary people who'd spent far too much time meddling in his business. And with Eckhart himself on their side, they'd stand a far greater chance of succeeding if they used the stealth and cunning ruthlessness he was known for, rather than the idealistic and trusting manner that had failed so spectacularly.

He didn't even know if any of them were still alive. 

But, his insane mind giggled, we know where to start.

*****

(To be continued in Ringing the Changes part 2: 'The End')


End file.
